Warm Ups & One Shots
by KayKayP
Summary: Lots of short stories about Jim and Spock. Ideas from here may be used in later story lines. Warning: Spork pairing.
1. Bed Time

_AN: I love the Spork pairing so much! It's really (well, almost) what made me want to start writing fan-fiction. I've been reading a whole bunch of it lately, and I told myself I would write something today so I forced myself to follow through. This was inspired by the fact that I'm randomly super tired. I thought it might be cute to put Jim in the same situation. Hope you like it! Any critiques on character personality/setting/inaccuracy/etc. please comment._

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Jim yawned sleepily and slumped further into the soft cushions of his captain's chair. The rest of the bridge crew was already gone. He'd been engrossed in a report when they'd reached space dock, and hadn't wanted to lose his concentration, so he'd dismissed the rest of the crew with a deft wave, mumbling something about catching up with them. It was almost an hour later, now, and he'd finished with the report long ago, but he was too tired to move. The past few weeks had been especially hectic, and the fatigue he'd been holding at bay had finally started to set in.

The heel of Jim's hand pressed hard against his cheek as he used it as a prop for his head. The soft glow of lights around him blurred together as his lids fluttered slowly downward, the weight of the day pulling them closed. In the back of his mind it occurred to him how embarrassing it would be if one of his crew members returned and found him asleep on the bridge, but he was just too tired to care.

A fog of sleep began to wrap around his mind and his perception of time slowed, one blink lasting one, two, three minutes. The warmth of the chair cushions, heated to his own body temperature, soothed his tense muscles.

From behind him he vaguely processed the sound of the bridge doors sliding open, the soft sound seeming to last an eternity, like the shifting of ocean waves across temperate beaches. A few moments later, muffled footsteps.

"Captain?" A quiet voice, lowered with concern.

_Spock. _Jim forgot to vocalize the thought in his sleep addled state, and after a few moments his first officer's voice came again, an undercurrent of affection running through it now as the Vulcan took in his obvious fatigue.

"Jim." Jim managed to reply with a soft, high pitched sort of humming sound that bordered on "Hmm", but sounded more like a sigh of contentment. He had begun to drift towards sleep once more when there came the quite rustle of fabric. Slowly, Spock slid his hands beneath Jim's sprawling legs and around his lower back. Jim shifted into the natural body heat the Vulcan emitted as Spock lifted him, pulling his relaxed body against his chest. Before the comfortable temperatures and the faint motion of Spock carrying him from the bridge completely lulled him into slumber, Jim raised his left hand, curling it gently against Spock's chest. Once again he voiced his contentment, purring a faint "Mmm" into Spock's shoulder, before finally drifting off to sleep.


	2. I See You

_AN: I wanted to do a piece where Spock is pretty much just enraptured by Jim's appearance, but I wanted to put a story with it. This seems like something Jim would do. I don't know if Jim actually hates peas or not, but in another fanfic I read he did, so I stole the idea from there. ;p _

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Gold

A halo of gold surrounding fair skin. Long pale lashes brushing against smooth flesh with every downswing, framing delicate blue irises that shone with a mischievous glint.

Blue

Semi-circles and softly swirling shadows tinged azure by the blue blood flowing beneath creamy skin, heated by pride, or embarrassment, or elation to a subtle pink shade.

Pink

Pink shaded cheeks complementing full, pink lips, slightly parted in a grin that never ceased to dazzle with a glowing sincerity. A grin that never ceased to dazzle _him_.

For a moment Spock was dazed by this beam of light and color as he turned to find the face of Jim Kirk smiling up at him from across the mess hall. He was lost in the poetry of that gentle face, his roving eyes striving to take it all in, to perfectly preserve in his near faultless memory every detail of his Captain's features.

The moment did not last. After only a few seconds he quickly veiled his emotion once more, locking away the breath taking scene and storing the key behind his heart. In a single blink he restructured his open expression to one of stern indifference. In Jim's presence he would often lower his guard, but his soul was not something he wished to bare to the grumbling doctor Jim had currently taking to hiding behind. Raising one eyebrow slightly, he spoke.

"I see you, Jim."

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"Whoa, Bones, what the hell!?" Jim reared back in exaggerated alarm as his friend lowered a tray onto the table in front of him. It was mostly a normal lunch, an apple and a large turkey sandwich, but in a small bowl alongside it…

"Peas?"

"Yes, Jim, peas," Bones replied, lowering himself onto his seat. "They're good for you."

"Bones," Jim touched his friend's arm, and spoke in low tones, feigning concern, "I _hate_ peas." Bones gave him a bland look, then the corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly, and his eyes adopted a devilish gleam.

"I know." Jim groaned at the expression and looked down at his tray glumly. He should've expected this, really. Since when did Bones offer to bring him his lunch? This was obviously a silent revenge for the last away mission Jim had participated in, in which he'd almost been eaten by a creature that closely resembled an oversized shrimp. It was sort of an ironic punishment, if you thought about it.

"Forget it, Bones," Jim huffed, picking up his sandwich, "you may have put them on my plate, but I'm not eating them." He accentuated this statement by taking a large bite of his sandwich, and almost gagged.

"Jesus, Bones," he spluttered, quickly spitting it out into a handily placed napkin, "you put peas in my sandwich, too!? That is _low_." Jim began to stand, determined to fetch a turkey sandwich which was not contaminated with gritty legumes, but Bones grabbed his arm, pulling him back down onto the bench.

"Jim," he growled quietly, a crazed grin slanting across his face, "if you don't get rid of every pea on that plate by the end of lunch break, so help me God I will shove them down your throat myself. And if you struggle…well, I have plenty of hypos for that." Jim's eyes narrowed in indignation.

"Fine," he stated simply, then pried Bones' hand from the fabric of his shirt and stood, making a large show of leaving his tray on the table. He strode over to the replicator, keeping his back to Bones, then walked back to the table and sat once more.

"You want me to _get rid_ of every pea on my plate? Then I will." Jim raised his hand over the edge of the table. In it he clutched a simple, white plastic straw. Bones gave him a questioning look as he inserted one end between his lips and set the other in the bowl of peas. Quickly, he sucked one of the foul items in through the end of the straw, holding it there using air pressure to his advantage. Turning, he inhaled through his nose, then, with one powerful puff of air he launched the pea from the end of the straw, smacking Bones square between the eyes. For a moment the doctor seemed to be in shock, then his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Jim," he began, raising one fist, but Jim was already standing, the bowl of peas clutched in one hand, the straw in the other. He quickly began shooting a volley of peas in Bones' direction, backing away as he did, intent on keeping out of the good doctor's reach whilst he aggravated him. It wasn't long, however, before he was running around the mess hall, sending the occasional pea over his shoulder as he fled from the enraged medic behind him. It was as he was rounding the far side of the mess hall approaching the exit that Spock walked in. In his surprise, Jim launched one of his green projectiles without turning around first. It flew straight and true, hitting the Vulcan squarely in the side of the neck.

Everyone froze, even Bones, and Jim quickly darted around behind him, shock seeming to initiate a momentary truce. Slowly, Spock turned to look at him. His dark eyes seemed wide and open for a moment as he studied Jim's face, then his expression shifted once more into one of neutrality and he raised one eyebrow.

"I see you, Jim," he stated, his informal address of his captain the only indication that he was amused. Jim could feel the subtle grin on his face widening as he replied cheekily,

"I see you too."

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_AN: The whole "I see you thing" is supposed to be a metaphor type deal. Like in Avatar. Except Jim and Spock aren't doing it like that, that would just be weird._


	3. You Scratch My Back

_AN: Again I got the idea for this story from a personal experience. Had a really itchy back the other day after I finished writing, and that got me to thinking what Jim would do if he had an itchy back…probably have a sexy Vulcan scratch it for him._

_EDITED: Changed pretty much the whole second half of the story. Same basic principle, different setting._

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Jim squirmed. Subtly, of course. He pushed his back deeper into the cushions of the captain's chair, slowly maneuvering his shoulder blades back and forth against the material of his shirt. The skin of his back felt as if it were full of pins and needles, but he couldn't reach the spot with his arm, it just didn't bend that far. Plus he didn't want to look like some sort of space monkey scratching his back on the bridge.

Jim adjusted his position, crossing his legs and digging his fingers into the arm rest of his chair. He could handle this. If he just didn't think about it…

He writhed suddenly as a stabbing shiver ran up his back, causing him to push back furiously into his chair. This was unbearable!

It had all started a few days ago, when the life support systems in his quarters had malfunctioned. Fortunately it hadn't affected his air supply. It had, however, short circuited the humidity controls. His room now felt about as dry as the deserts of Vulcan. It wasn't so bad so long as he took a shower between every shift and drank plenty of water and smeared lotion into his skin. Unfortunately, he couldn't reach his back to moisturize it, leaving the skin between his shoulder blades to dry out and crack and _itch like a bitch!_

And the darndest thing of all was that Scotty hadn't fixed the problem yet! Normally everything would have been working perfectly again within the first five minutes, probably with some sort of fancy upgrade too, but it was days later and still no improvements. Jim was beginning to suspect sabotage.

He tried yawning discretely, stretching his hands up over his head, then reaching around over his shoulder, his fingers struggling to gain purchase on the cloth that rested on top of his chapped skin, but it was too far and he quickly lowered his arms. He shifted uncomfortably again, uncrossing and re crossing his legs, twisting his back at odd angles, but-

"Captain, pardon me, but if you require a trip to the lavatory I would be more than happy to take command of the bridge whilst you relieve yourself." Jim looked over to the science station to find a highly irritated Spock watching him. His face looked to be just this side of pissed off.

"Nah Spock, I don't have to pee." There followed his statement an uncomfortable silence in which he shifted around some more.

"Captain," the Vulcan started again through clenched teeth, "if you are not in need of bladder relief may I inquire as to why you keep _fidgeting?_" Jim smiled to himself at that remark. Of course the Vulcan could probably hear his clothing rustle every time he moved.

"Sorry Spock, just an itchy back, that's all." Spock raised one eyebrow slightly.

"Then why do you not simply scratch it," the Vulcan asked in slightly perturbed tones, as if that were only the most obvious thing in the world. Which, really, it was, but then Jim had already tried that, hadn't he?

"Well you see Spock," Jim replied, leaning forward in his chair slightly, "not all of us are as flexible as you. I can't reach." Spock studied him for a moment, seeming to hesitate.

"May I speak with you for a moment, Captain," he asked finally, a slight nod of his head toward the turbolift indicating he wished for privacy.

"Uh, sure," Jim replied, slowly rising from his chair. He nodded to Sulu, indicating he now had control of the bridge, then followed Spock through the metal doorway. It wasn't until the turbolift had started downward that the Vulcan spoke again.

"Captain," he began, "I apologize for calling you away from the bridge but I thought it might be prudent to remove ourselves from the rest of the crew." Jim gave him a puzzled look. "You expressed previously your discomfort. I would like to offer you my assistance in relieving it." As silence filled the air around them as Spock reached out and stopped the lift. He seemed to be concentrating a whole lot more than necessary on the simple act of button pushing. Jim could feel himself starting to smile as he ran the last few minutes over in his head: Jim expresses discomfort. Spock arranges private meeting, then offers to "relieve" said discomfort. Spock displays nervous behavior. Oh, this was too good.

"Spock," Jim began, stepping closer to the rigid Vulcan next to him whose arm was still slightly extended, "are you offering to scratch my back for me?"

"That is accurate, Captain."

"Please, call me Jim." Spock turned finally and looked down at him, a strange expression on his face. For a moment they just stood there, Spock staring at the grin plastered across Jim's face. Then a sudden shiver ran down Jim's spine and he jerked his arm backwards with a hissed "damn it".

"Allow me…Jim," said Spock, reaching out. Jim turned, allowing him better access. Slowly, he felt tentative fingers come to rest on his back, guessing at the spot of inflammation. Gently they began to move from side to side, lightly shifting the fabric of his shirt against his skin. The action caused another shiver to run down his spine as the itching sensation worsened.

"Urg," he shuddered, "Spock, your going to have to try harder than that if you want to help." Instantly the pressure increased as Spock began moving his fingers in a swifter rhythm.

"Ooh, yeah, that's much better, little to the left. Ah, up, up. Now right. That's the spot." Jim moaned slightly as his first officer chased the itch around his back. It was amazing to think that such a simple action could cause him so much pleasure.

His faint mewling sounds seemed to encourage Spock, as he continued scratching with increased intensity, his nails digging into Jim's skin through the fabric of his shirt.

"Ah, ah, harder Spock," Jim heard himself cry, and suddenly he was being slammed into the wall of the turbo lift, his body pressed flush against it. Spock roughly lifted the fabric of his shirt and began scratching with renewed intensity, his nails leaving deep red marks along Jim's flesh.

Waves of pain and pleasure shot through him. He thought he might be bleeding, but it just felt too good for him to care. Where Spock's fingers touched him his skin tingled with a strange sort of intensity, and suddenly he found he was very aroused.

_No, bad Jim_, he thought to himself as his lust became almost over powering. As the thought crossed his mind Spock's fingers slid to a stop. He felt a faint sense of alarm flash through him, alarm that was not his own. It was followed by a feeling of shame, then cold as Spock withdrew his hand from Jim's back.

"It seems that I became overzealous in my attempts to assist you," came Spock's faint voice from behind him. Jim turned slightly, looking over his shoulder to see Spock's face. It was completely devoid of emotion. Only his eyes betrayed his alarm as he stared at the damage he had done to Jim's skin. It was beginning to hurt now, without the distracting electric feeling of Spock's hands on him.

"I shall assist you to the medical bay," he continued, reaching over and re-starting the lift. As it jerked into motion, Jim slowly unrolled his shirt, easing it over his tender skin. He wanted to say something, to break the awful silence around them, but he couldn't find the words. His mental replay of the situation seemed to have gotten stuck on "and then Spock turned me on". It wasn't until they were outside the medical bay, Spock nodding to him before he turned to leave, that his brain really began to process thought once more. He gave himself a mental bitch slap as Spock disappeared from sight, realizing the poor guy probably felt like the worst Vulcan in existence. He was contemplating going after him, but a painful twinge from his back made him decide against it. That would have to wait until he had Bones patch him up.

…not that he really believed he would survive the good doctor's wrath, but hey, couldn't hurt to be optimistic!

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_AN: I plan on writing another chapter that will be the sequel to this, since this is getting kinda long. Please critique on anything you feel isn't quite right._

_Yes, I was going with the idea that Jim was experiencing some of Spock's feelings. Since Vulcans have sensitive fingers I figured scratching Jim's back might be a turn on for him. ;p_


	4. Definition

_AN: This is not the sequel to 'You Scratch My Back…'_

_I got the word sultry as one of my vocabulary words and just about flipped out when I read the definition. Spock-attacks are dangerous things in school._

_Warning: SUPER FLUFF!!_

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_"Sultry."

Spock looked up from his computer screen to find Jim Kirk standing in the doorway to his quarters. In one hand he held open a large brown book, the minuscule text aligned in columns down the page.

"I beg your pardon, Captain?"

"Sultry," Jim repeated stepping into Spock's quarters. The door slid shut behind him cutting out the bright yellow light from the corridor beyond.

"I fail to ascertain the significance of…sultry," Spock replied, watching incredulously as Jim strolled across the room and tossed the book down on his desk with a faint thump.

"It's a word Spock," he said, his tone light and teasing.

"I am aware of this Captai-,"

"It's Jim, we're off duty."

"Very well," Spock continued, his jaw clenching in slight frustration, "Jim. I am aware that 'sultry' is a word. Why are you telling me this?"

"Well you see," Jim replied, leaning casually against the desk, one hand gesticulating wildly, "I was just reading the dictionary," Spock couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at this, "and I came across it. When I read the definition, I thought to myself, 'why, this word is the definition of Spock!' you see?" Spock resisted the temptation to say "No" as bluntly as he possibly could.

"You are saying sultry is a word that could be used to describe me," he asked instead. Was he _seriously _riding this crazy train?

"It's more than that," Jim exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air, "it's your word!"

"Jim, I find it necessary that I must first call your attention to the fact that it is highly illogical to attach a possessive to that word. Secondly, you did say that you read the definition of this word, am I correct?"

"Yup," Jim replied, obviously very happy with the turn this conversation was taking.

"Did you read _both_ definitions?"

"Yup," the smug grin on Jim's face grew wider, "that's how I knew it was just meant for you."

"Jim, while I may be able to understand the logic in connecting 'extremely and unpleasantly hot' with my person, I do not find 'sexually exciting or gratifying' to be very fitting."

"Oh contraire," Jim replied, flopping himself down across Spock's lap. The Vulcan's hands instantly shot up and a look of alarm briefly crossed his face. Jim was reminded of a cat trying to back out from underneath a piece of tape attached to its fur.

"I think it suits you perfectly," he continued, stretching out and throwing his legs over one arm of the chair.

"Jim what are you doing," Spock growled in strangled tones.

"I just thought I'd make myself more comfortable in your _sultry_ lap." Jim waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Jim-,"

"So what's a word that describes me?"

"What," Spock gasped, finding his breath momentarily stolen by the wide, bright look in his captain's eyes. He realized that for once Jim was opening himself up, allowing himself to be vulnerable.

"You know, I gave you a word, now it's your turn."

"Insufferable," Spock replied defensively, not quite ready to give in just yet to the emotions swirling around in his chest.

"Oh, come on Spock," Jim laughed, not offended by Spock's playful jab. Spock felt his stomach lurch in a not altogether unpleasant manner as he took in that smile. Slowly, he lowered his hands, one almost brushing against Jim's cheek as it came to rest on the available space on the arm of the chair.

"I am unable to think of anything," he replied in low tones.

"Try harder." Jim shifted his head slightly so that his cheek brushed softly against Spock's index finger. A shiver of pleasure ran up Spock's spine and he leaned forward, bringing his other hand to rest against Jim's waist. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he leaned down, his nose almost touching Jim's. He stared into the other man's eyes, a deep sapphire shining out from beneath delicate blond lashes.

"Mine," he whispered, as he pressed his lips against Jim's in a soft kiss.

"I thought it was illogical to attach possessives to people," Jim breathed, pulling back slightly to talk while he reached up and wrapped his arms around Spock's neck.

"You are illogical," Spock replied, running his fingers through Jim's thick blond hair, "it seems to be a highly appropriate definition to me." Jim couldn't help but laugh at that.

"You know what? You're right. It's exactly what I want to be."


	5. I'll Scratch Yours

_AN: This is the sequel to 'You Scratch My Back'. Originally I did not plan for it to be this long, its six pages in Microsoft Word. I'm glad I decided to post it in two installments._

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When Jim finally exited the medical bay, after a few slaps upside the head from Bones for being "an accident-prone moron" and "completely hopeless", he felt much better. Despite all his griping he'd patched Jim up fine. It was obvious that he hadn't bought Jim's story about scraping up against some machinery in engineering, Jim hadn't really expected him to, but he'd respected Jim's privacy none-the-less.

Instead of heading instantly toward Spock's quarters, Jim reported back to the bridge. There was always the chance, after all, that Spock had returned to finish up his shift. The bridge was Vulcan free, however, when Jim stepped from the turbolift. His first instinct was to turn right around and close the lift doors before anybody noticed him, but it was too late for that. Besides, he still had his duties as a captain to attend to. That was it. He had duties. He wasn't stalling. Of course not.

Jim sat fidgeting for the rest of his shift, unable to keep still for a different reason this time. He wasn't sure why the whole idea of talking to Spock was making him so nervous. He'd been perfectly fine with it just a little while ago. But it seemed that his adrenaline had worn off and the reality of the situation was just now hitting him. He was attracted to Spock.

It wasn't anything profound, of course. He didn't want to throw himself on his knees before the guy and profess his love. He just realized his aesthetic appeal. He was tall, dark, and handsome, all the good stuff, right? And he really did have a good sense of humor, in a quiet, secret, raised eyebrow kind of way. Besides, if he got on his knees in front of Spock it would not be to talk.

…wait. Wait. Did he just think that? Had he seriously just thought about doing dirty things to Spock? Doing dirty things _with _Spock. Having Spock do dirty things _to_ him…

When the end of shift finally came Jim was having a full blown mental freak out. He only nodded briefly to the crew, mumbling something, he wasn't quite sure what, before speed walking it out of there. His mind was in a panic. It seemed that the more he thought about it, the more freaked out it made him. But the thing that really bothered him, was that deep down, somewhere inside him, it _didn't_ bother him. However much it bewildered him on the surface, subconsciously he knew he'd already accepted the fact of the matter long ago. How long ago? He couldn't say. It wasn't like he'd had some huge revelation. No, he would've noticed that happening. Gradually, over a long period of time, it had just grown to be that way. Just as he had grown to think of Spock as a friend over time he had now grown to think of him as something more.

Jim found that while he'd been running around the ship in mental panic his subconscious mind had taken over, showing him where he needed to go. He was standing in front of the door to Spock's quarters, staring down at his boots. He looked up at the smooth metal door in front of him, hesitating. The screaming voice in his head had subsided now, leaving him only with a strange feeling of calm. It would be okay.

Jim lifted one finger and pushed the buzzer next to Spock's door. After a few moments of silence, he called out hesitantly.

"Spock? It's Jim." There was another brief silence, then…

"You may enter." Jim stepped forward and the door slid open, allowing him access into the room beyond. It was hot inside, and lit with a dim red light. An array of candles was set around the room, giving it a slightly spiced smell. Spock stood in the center of the floor. He had discarded his uniform shirt, leaving on the black tee he wore beneath it. It clung to his narrow chest and shoulders, showing off the curvature of his upper body. Jim realized he was staring and glanced away, his eyes taking in the flickering shadows the candles cast upon the walls.

"You didn't finish your shift." Damn it! Jim kicked himself mentally. He had not meant to say that.

"My apologies, Captain," Spock replied with a slight incline of his head, "I believed it would be wise to first regain control of my mental facilities through meditation. I would like to apologize for my assault on your person earlier-,"

"I thought I told you, it's Jim," Jim interrupted. For some reason he didn't want Spock to apologize. Spock looked up from where he had been staring at the floor near Jim's feet. His expression was unreadable.

"Of course," he said, his voice low, "Jim. As I have said I would like to apologize for my assault on your person earlier. It was unintentional and I deeply hope it will not affect our relationship in the future."

"Spock, there's no need to apologize." The Vulcan's eyebrows shot up at that comment in a very stoic show of surprise.

"Jim, I fail to see the logic in that statement. I inflicted harm upon your person. Is it not customary to apologize for such an action?"

"Is that why you're doing it?" Jim asked, slightly perturbed, "Because it's customary?" Spock was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed once more on a patch of carpet near Jim's feet. When finally he spoke, his tone was low and uncertain.

"I must admit I feel a deep sense of regret and…remorse. I am ashamed of what I have done to you." Jim stepped further into the room, his arms held loosely at his sides. All the voices in his head were quiet now, the panic of indecision washed away by Spock's presence.

"Spock," he murmured, reaching out and setting his hand lightly against Spock's shoulder, "It's alright. You were only trying to help me, and you did. And in all honesty, I don't mind what happened. It felt…it's alright"

"You do not mind?" Spock asked, his hand hovering hesitantly between them.

"No," Jim said with a smile, squeezing the other man's shoulder slightly, "in fact I was wondering when you wanted me to pay you back."

"…I beg your pardon Jim?"

"Oh come on," Jim drawled, stepping further into Spock's personal space than was strictly necessary. "Surely you've heard the old saying? You scratch my back, I scratch yours, right?" Spock's eyes widened slightly at the statement.

"Jim, I do not believe that would be appropriate. In addition, I am not experiencing skin irritation at this time. That action would not be necessary."

"You didn't seem to think it was so inappropriate a little while ago," Jim replied, casually obliterating the remaining area between them. "But if you don't need a back scratch I could always give you a massage instead." Jim felt Spock's arms come up gradually around him, his long fingered hands resting against his waist.

"Are you propositioning me, Jim?"

"Maybe. You got a problem with that?"

"I must admit, I am not adverse to…this." He indicated their intertwined forms with a nod of his head.

"What about this?" Jim whispered, reaching up to run a finger along the line of Spock's lips. The Vulcan growled faintly and reached up to take Jim's hand in his. He could feel the faint tingle starting up again.

"No, Jim."

"Wait," Jim queried. "No as in you're 'not adverse', or no as in 'Yo, stop that'?"

"I am desirous of your person, Jim," Spock replied, bending down to run his lips lightly against the curve of Jim's neck. Jim moaned and ran his hand underneath the thin, black material of Spock's shirt. His skin was smooth and uncommonly warm. Jim pulled at the edges of the shirt, attempting to remove it and reveal more of the Vulcan's skin. He was halted momentarily when Spock took a half step back.

"Jim, what are you doing?" he asked, attempting to tug his shirt back into place.

"What, don't you want your massage?" Jim teased unrelentingly. He began tugging on the garment once more, this time succeeding in pulling it over the Vulcan's head.

"If I am to be disrobed it is only fair that the same is done to you," said Spock, pulling at the hem of Jim's own shirt. Jim allowed him to pull it off then quickly did the same with his undershirt. When he was free of it he moved forward to press his bare chest against Spock's.

"May I inquire as to how you plan to give me a back massage from your present position?" Jim looked up at Spock and grinned at the comment.

"Alright, fine then. On the bed." Spock raised one eyebrow then turned and moved to comply with his order. Jim watched hungrily as he propped himself up on his hands and knees before lowering his stomach onto the mattress. Spock turned to watch over his shoulder as Jim climbed onto the bed after him, then moved to straddle his back. He could feel the weight of the smaller man settle onto his lower back, then cool hands came down against his skin. He sighed in pleasure at the touch, and allowed his body to relax as the hands roved over him. They moved up his spine to his shoulders, gently kneading away at imaginary tensions. It was really more of a formality than a necessity, as the Vulcan was perfectly capable of relaxing his muscles himself, but he found he enjoyed it nonetheless probably because it was _Jim's _hands on him. Suddenly, they withdrew.

"That was _you,_ wasn't it?" Jim whispered, looking down at his hands, still tingling, "Back in the turbolift, and just now, those were _your_ emotions."

Spock moved to turn over, and Jim shifted his weight so he was still on his knees, looking down at the Vulcan.

"I am a touch telepath," he confirmed. "It is difficult to contain my thoughts without concentration. You are correct. When you touch me…it is likely you are feeling what I feel, as I feel what you feel." Jim gave him a curious look, cocking his head to the side and half grinning.

"Spock, how much do you like me?" Jim's grin grew as he watched to tips of the Vulcan's ears darken slightly.

"I am…quite fond of you Jim," he replied, not quite meeting the other man's eye.

"That turned you on didn't it?" Jim laughed, leaning down into Spock's line of sight, forcing the Vulcan to look at him, "In the turbolift, when you were scratching my back, that turned you on. I _felt_ it turn you on."

"Vulcan's have very sensitive hands," Spock responded, once again glancing away.

"So that's a yes, then," Jim grabbed Spock's face in his hands, forcing the Vulcan to look him in the eye. "You find me _stimulating_, don't you?" He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against Spock's lips. He gasped sharply, his mouth opening slightly, and Jim deepened the kiss. It was just like in the turbolift, one moment he was on top of Spock, the next, _wham!_, the Vulcan had slammed him into the mattress.

"Inordinately so," he growled before returning Jim's kisses.

Laying there on Spock's bed, the warm Vulcan pressed against him, their mouths working against one another, Jim found he was very glad that someone had broken his humidity controls. Originally he had suspected sabotage. Now he hoped for it. His heart fluttered at the possibility that a certain steamy Vulcan might have tampered with them and bribed Scotty to not repair them, that this Vulcan, with his amazing deductive powers, had known that without humidity his skin would dry out, that _his_ Vulcan might have gone that far just for a chance to touch him, just for a chance to scratch his back.

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_AN: Let me know what you think, about the ending especially. Also, I'm thinking about doing holiday specials. Any thoughts on this?_

_P.S. Does it strike anyone as awesome that uses the same abbreviation for Terms of Service that Star Trek uses for The Original Series? TOS._


End file.
